Heir of the Elements (24 page)

Chapter 23

It took Falcon a moment to realize that time slowing down wasn’t in his mind. Time really had slowed down! Volcseck’s sword moved in slow motion, and Faith was opening her eyes at a snail’s pace.

He recognized it as space force, the ability to put unnatural levels of gravity around a person or a group of persons, making it nearly impossible to move.
Who is causing this?
Sheridan was the first person who came to mind. The thought quickly left him though. His Rohad friend was a gifted wielder, of that there was no doubt, but there was no way he could space force someone of Volcseck’s ability.

He only knew of one more space wielder.

Volcseck seemed to recognize the culprit as well. He took a step back as his speed returned to normal. “Why do you hide yourself, Ghost Knight?”

A loud boom echoed through the air as a ripple formed before them. Out of it emerged the wielder clad in white and gold slim armor. The same imposing white cape he had worn the last time Falcon had seen him was draped behind him. The knight’s head jerked from Zoen’s corpse to Faith and then to Falcon. From behind the visor Falcon scarcely made out a determined gaze.

“I have no words for you, knight. So I will make this quick.” Volcseck’s sword swooshed through the air. A long spear that appeared in the Ghost Knight’s hand met the attack. The spear shot down, bringing the sword down with it. The knight used the opening to sweep in with his leg. Volcseck dodged it and countered with an elbow to the face.

The visor shattered as the knight staggered back. Still in motion he shot a volley of small meteors from his hand, only to have them easily swiped away by his opponent.

There was a burst of a red glow beside Volcseck. It moved toward the Ghost Knight.

The space wielder opened a portal before him, and the attacks moved straight in. Another portal opened behind Volcseck. Too late did the chaos wielder realize his mistake. He turned with barely enough time to react as his own attacks rammed him from behind. His body took on a U form as the red glow dug into his lower back. His hands flailed and with a loud grunt he fell face-first to the floor.

Falcon felt a surge of excitement. He’d never heard of anyone even come close to landing a hit on Volcseck, yet here he was, flat on his face eating grass. Better yet, Faith’s strength had returned. She was no longer relying on his energy, which meant he could join the fight against Volcseck.

Volcseck stood. “No more games.” Despite the blow that he’d been dealt, he retained his usual calm tone, and Falcon was left wondering if he had celebrated a little too soon.

“Agreed,” said the Ghost Knight, matching Volcseck’s placid tone.

Falcon stood behind the knight, ready to join the fray.

The Ghost Knight did not seem to want his assistance, though. He held out his hand. “Step back, Falcon. They need you more than I do. Get them far from here.”

“But—”

“Don’t argue. You did enough of that when you were younger. You’re no longer that child. Stop talking and listen to me.”

What is he talking about?

“As for you,” said the Ghost Knight. He turned his attention back to Volcseck. “When you attacked my village and murdered my parents I had not yet awoken my space wielding. I tried to fight you back then, but you tossed me aside and killed my father, Anson, before my eyes.”

Falcon staggered back.
Anson? Anson is my father.

The Ghost Knight pressed on. “So today your opponent will not be the Ghost Knight, the space wielder. No. Today you duel Albert, the wind wielder.” With a blinding flash the white and golden armor disappeared, replaced by a simple green tunic and trousers. The white cape had altered to a green cape held fast by brown trimmings. He donned dark boots and gloves. What surprised Falcon most was his face. He had seen the Ghost Knight unmask himself once. In that moment he had come face to face with a square face, light gray eyes, and raven-black hair swept back behind his head in a series of waves. The face that he looked at now was totally different. It was the face of his brother, albeit a bit older. He had the same slender nose, same light tan skin, same curled eyelashes, and the same wavy brown hair he recalled from all those years ago.

“Since you fight me with no mask...” Volcseck reached for his hood. “I shall do the same.”

Falcon stood in awe at the sight. He had expected an elderly, wrinkled man with saggy skin. Volcseck was none of this, however. He looked as young as he had in the image he had seen with Demetrius. His raven-black hair fell back evenly. His handsome features were those of a man who had lived no more than twenty-five seasons, not ten thousand.

“You’re not well,” said Faith behind Falcon. She caught him as he fell back. His head was reeling with too much information. The day had started like any other, and now here he was face-to-face with Volcseck and Albert, the two people he had spent half a lifetime searching for. What could he do? What could he say? It was all too much for him to take in.

He was still lost in his shocked mind when Volcseck made a dash at Faith. Albert met Volcseck’s sword with his spear. Their weapons clashed with a thunderous crack, as the energies of both wielders converged in a single spot.

“I told you to get them out of here!” ordered Albert, this time more forceful than before.

Falcon snapped back to reality. Albert was doing his part. Now he had to do his. He opened a rift in space and jumped in, taking Faith and the fallen warriors with him. They emerged atop a high cliff. The lifeless bodies of Zoen, Rykas, and Dunn came out first, followed by Faith and Falcon. The unconscious Queen Latiha was the last to be pulled through. With Kaidoz gone, she was out of her prison, but she had yet to wake.

“She’ll be fine,” said Faith, examining the empress.

Falcon nodded, embarrassed to say that the empress’s safety was the last thing on his mind. From up above, he witnessed the tremendous duel taking place in the valley below.

The two wielders met time and time again, their speed so fast that it was near impossible to follow, especially at such a long distance.

A scream drowned in Falcon’s throat when Volcseck managed to take hold of Albert’s spear and snap it in half. He was certain that that would spell the end of his brother. Albert, however, grabbed the incoming sword with his hand and, infusing his elbow with wind, broke the chaos wielder’s weapon in pieces as well.

Falcon took a breath. His gaze dropped down to the grandmaster. He had lost so much today. Was he going to lose his brother too now that he had just gotten him back?

“Don’t worry,” said Faith, hugging him tightly. “He can do this.”

Despite her words of assurance, doubt dripped from her voice. They both knew that Albert was locked in a duel to the death against a man who had never known defeat.

Falcon held his breath as his brother kicked the air. Visible arched green gusts of wind shot from his feet.

Volcseck threw his arms up above his head. A red wall that had to be over twenty feet high rose into the air. The wind arched around the wall and continued on to its target.

This time Volcseck fired purple energy arches of his own. The green and purple attacks met in a frightful display of flames and fireworks.
Is he mimicking his attacks?

Falcon’s eyes narrowed, and he noticed a slight green glow emit from above his brother’s head. A clear liquid fell over his head, almost as if were a waterfall of wind energy. Then he took off in a sprint, throwing himself into the air and flying straight, head on, at the wall.

The way he glided, suspended through the air, reminded Falcon of an arrow that had been fired to fly straight and true. Except, no arrow moved at this speed. His brother was shooting so fast that the ground behind him shattered in his wake, lifting up rock and deep-rooted plants alike. He blew past the wall with ease.

Volcseck teleported. Albert seemed to have predicted this, because he rounded in a tight turn and blew back from where he had come. No sooner had Volcseck reemerged when Albert slammed into his chest. The tip of the waterfall above his head hit as if it were the end of an arrow. The chaos wielder grunted as he rolled across the ground until his flailing body crashed into a tree. The trunk splintered in a dozen places with the force.

Amazingly, Volcseck got to his feet in an instant. His skin turned a deep dark brown, and his skin wrinkled. His eyes were dark pits now. Even from afar Falcon made out the glow of crimson intensity.

Chaos state! No. No. Run, Albert!
His insides screamed, but he knew there was no use. Even if Albert could hear him, he doubted he would listen.

It was Volcseck’s turn to attack. He moved at a staggering speed, closing the distance between himself and his foe in a blink of an eye. They became locked in a series of parries, blocks, and attacks.

Falcon licked his lips nervously. He knew that it was only a matter of time before his brother was cut down. Volcseck was the faster of the two.

Then, like a cruel nightmare, Volcseck’s fist made it past Albert’s defense. Albert flew through the air, crashed into a large rock, and dangled over it, blood gushing from his nose and mouth.

Not one to let his advantage pass him by, Volcseck swooped in to his fallen enemy.

Stung by the realization that his brother was about to die, Falcon tried to space wield to him, only to have Faith hold him back.

“You can’t help him in your condition,” she said into his ear. “You’ll only die too.”

What happened next was quite unexpected. A long spear that seemed to be made out of flesh, complete with pumping veins and arteries materialized in Volcseck’s right hand. As he brought the weapon down, he was shot back by a blur of green power.

Albert front flipped back to his feet.

Falcon’s insides surged with relief.

His brother dug his hands into the dirt, much like an earth wielder. A thunderous snap followed as thousands of rays of wind burst from the ground. The earth crumpled into a thousand pieces as howling winds shot out in straight lines of raw power.

Falcon covered his eyes, trying to keep the dust that had risen in a mushroom cloud out of his eyes.

Volcseck tried to escape by teleporting up into the air and firing circular rays of red energy from his hands. Each shot shattered the countless shards of rocks that now littered the battle space.

Albert’s body was now glowing with a bright green aura, and Falcon knew it was his raw wind power leaking out of him.

Both wielders met within the vociferous showdown. They flew through the air and crashed into each other. Each time they met, shockwaves of energy would ripple from their bodies, causing the ground to tremble.

Water sprang from the many ruptures that had been cut through the prairie, sending geysers of liquid high into the clouds.

“That’s unreal,” remarked a scratchy voice behind him. Falcon spun to find Dunn standing behind him. “I’ve never thought such power was possible. They’re rearranging the entire landscape!”

“I thought you were dead,” said Falcon.

Dunn frowned. “Don’t sound
too
disappointed. I was merely unconscious. It takes more than a chaos wielder to kill me.” He had just finished speaking when he noticed the corpses of Zoen and Rykas. The professor’s hands trembled, and he beat at his chest. “No!” Desperate, he threw himself at Zoen, checking for a pulse.

Falcon heard what sounded like a low hum at his side. It quickly grew louder as Volcseck teleported beside them. He made one more attempt to grab Faith, only to have Albert ram into him and shove him back.

The two warriors stood face to face.

The chaos wielder breathed quick, raspy breaths. Albert did the same. Both of their clothing had been ripped to shreds in numerous places, exposing their muscular physiques.

“This is not over,” hissed Volcseck. “This battle has given me more than enough information on your abilities. Pray we never bout again, Albert Hyatt, for if we do…” He let his silence drift for a second. “I will end you.”

A teleport later and the chaos wielder was gone, but Falcon was certain that they had not seen the last of him, not by a long shot.

Chapter 24

According to Dunn, Ladria was free. Zoen had led the attack that reclaimed the city. With the absence of Draknorr, it had proved an easy task to overrun the Suteckh forces. After their victory, Zoen had decided to take a small escort to Missea to assist the young Rohads. It was on this trek that they ran into the skirmish against Volcseck. With the extreme energy levels they’d been emitting, it had proven childishly easy to find them.

The freedom of Ladria should have been welcome news. Falcon could not find himself to smile, though. Not with the nightmare unfolding before his eyes.

The two coffins rested, lids open at the center of the grand hall. The usual yellow tapestries had been brought down and replaced with dark ones. In the three days since the grandmaster’s death, hundreds of nobles and royals had poured from all around to pay their respects to Zoen. They all stood now, heads down as they crowded the hall.

Two men and a tall woman, all wearing black robes, stood over the oak wood coffin and laid a dark rose within it. Falcon recognized them as the grandmasters from the other Rohad academies. He wondered how they could have reached Missea so quickly, when he and his friends had struggled so much to do the same. Indeed, being a grandmaster sure made life easier sometimes.

The trio of grandmasters then moved to the second, red marbled coffin and laid a flower within it as well.

Once done, they took a seat atop the wooden platform that had been erected at the end of the hall. A somber-faced Empress Latiha made her way to the center of it. She faced the crowd, gathering her breath for a moment.

Her head rose. “Zoen was a wonderful being and an even greater friend. When I met him a century ago, he was no more than a child, but even then he displayed the qualities that would lead him to become a great man. Qualities like strength, duty, honor, respect, and above all else…compassion…”

The empress continued her speech. She spoke of Zoen’s time with Aadi. She then went on to tell the story of how a simple beggar boy had risen through the ranks to become the longest serving Rohad Grandmaster. For the next hour she unfolded the story of the man that Zoen had been. How he had amassed a following at Rohad academy, reinvented the rules that catered to the nobles, and formed the strategy that ended the Ladrian war. Falcon zoned out some time into the speech. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. At any other time, he would have given anything to hear these long-forgotten stories of his mentor. With the amount of loss he had experienced, however, he was in no mood for stories of how wise and benevolent Zoen had been. The grandmaster was gone. No amount of kind words was going to change that.

Despite his lack of enthusiasm for the somber words, they continued on. For the next few hours, one person after another took their time speaking of their experience with Zoen.

Falcon heard Hiromy clear her throat beside him. She had buried her head in Sheridan’s shirt and was crying quietly. At her side, Faith also let out tears. Aya was the only one who wasn’t crying, though her red eyes told him that she had been crying some time ago. In private, perhaps. Falcon noticed that the blind girl, Empress Keira, stood beside Aya. She rested a comforting hand on Aya’s shoulder. The two massive bears flanked her from each side. The animals bowed their heads as well, making Falcon wondered how the empress had earned such obedience from the savage creatures.

Why am I thinking about that at a time like this?
He shook his head. All the stress was getting to him. Standing idly by was only making things worse, and the more he did it, the more suffocating it became. He felt the walls closing in on him. The people seemed to be moving closer, violating his space.

Unable to take any more, he darted out of the room, down the palace halls, through the garden, and out into the city.

Things didn’t get any better. Nature itself seemed to be grieving the fallen grandmaster. The skies were a dark gray. The air was thick and moist, signaling an oncoming thunderstorm. The sobbing people that stood outside the palace made it next to impossible to move.

“Excuse me!” cried a woman who Falcon had just bumped into.

“Quit running into people, young man,” complained another woman Falcon had crashed into as well. “Have some respect. Don’t you know that a son of Missea has died?” She looked at him with judgmental eyes. It was the same look he had gotten time and time again as he grew up in Ladria. That same
you’re worthless to the world
kind of look.

In silence, he darted away from the crowd and into an empty alleyway. Where was he going? He himself didn’t know.

Moments later, in the solemn silence of the outskirts of Missea, Falcon found himself staring through the small open window of a pub. The pub itself didn’t grab his attention. Why should it? It was a plain muddy structure of hay, rocks, and sticks. Even the name of the place,
Lowly Scrap Heap
, which had been etched into a rock, quite sloppily, screamed of depression and abandonment.

What did attract Falcon was the man that he saw through the window. Sitting alone at the end of the small room was Albert, sipping slowly from a mug. Every time he drank from it he would gaze at the mug as if it held some deep secret, and then he would set it down and unblinkingly stare at it.

He opened the door, taking in the scent of moldy seaweed and stale ale.

Albert looked up, and with a swing of his hand, motioned Falcon to join him.

The irony of the situation was not lost to Falcon. He had spent many sleepless nights, thinking of the time he would come face to face with his long lost brother. The one everyone was convinced had died in that cave attack. Now here he was. Except, the grand celebration he expected at the time of their meeting was absent. There were no joyful hugs and cheers. Instead, only a few sleeping drunkards and a frail old bartender, who sat behind a counter, would bear witness to this event.

The first words out of Albert’s mouth only further cemented the anti-climactic aura surrounding this much anticipated event in Falcon’s life.

“Care for a drink?” he asked.

“I don’t drink,” said Falcon. “But maybe I can make an exception today.”

“Hey, Nolan!” called Albert. “A drink for my little brother.”

Nolan, the old bartender, lifted his head, leaving a web of drool that spread from his mouth to the counter where he had been laying. “H… help yoooorseelf... f.” He pointed to the bottles of rum, wine, and ale behind him. He then lifted his head and took a hard look at Albert. “You have a brother. You never told—” His head suddenly crashed back down as he returned to his rambunctious snores.

Albert took another slow sip of his drink. “He’s a bit eccentric, but he’s a good man.”

Falcon searched for the cleanest mug he could find, which wasn’t easy. They all were all dusty with streaks of grime. He finally settled on a small one that seemed to be the cleanest of the bunch. He gave it a swipe with his shirt and helped himself to a brown bottle with the words
The Ugly Wielder
on the sooty label. The dark liquid rose to the top, fizzing and bubbling as it poured out of the bottle.

Nolan lifted his head at this. “Watch yourself, boy. I’m trying to run a respectable establishment here. No dirty business.” He scratched his behind as his head dropped to the counter once more. His muffled, slurred speech could still be heard. “You are family of Albert, so I will see it fit to let this pass. He’s a good man. Very good man. Got me and my family out of a tough problem many times. Good man…good man…”

“He knows you more than I do,” said Falcon, much more accusingly than he had intended. He took a seat and gripped the cold steel of the handle. Quickly, he took a sip. The bitter taste assaulted his taste buds, causing him to gag and spit some of the ale. Not wanting to look a fool, he took another long gulp of the drink, trying his best to retain a straight face.

“It’s an acquired taste,” said Albert from behind his mug. “Take it slow. There’s no rush.”

“Is this the part where you impart wise words? I could have used those over the last few years when I was alone, abandoned by my own brother.” He was well aware of the poison in his voice, but he didn’t care. Who was Albert to tell him what to do now, especially after being gone for so long? In another sign of defiance, he took a long swig, downing the remaining ale.

If Albert was angry, sad, glad, or a combination of these sentiments, Falcon did not know. His features remained passive and unreadable.

“I really like this place,” his brother said. “It’s quiet, and only a certain kind of people come here.”

“Yes. I can see that. The owner seems very selective of the people he allows in here.” Falcon took another glance around, his eyes settling on the few hiccupping drunkards.

“You can jest all you want, but this is a simple place. These are good folk, unlike like so many other you’ll encounter throughout your life. Zoen would have liked this place.”

“Is that why you’re here and not at his funeral?” As he asked the question, it occurred to Falcon that Albert could not possibly know what Zoen would or would not want. How could he? He’d never even met the man.

“You’re wondering how I could know what Zoen would want.” said Albert as if reading his mind. It was more of a statement than a question, and Falcon cursed himself for being so easy to read. “I knew Zoen well. After all, it was he who kept me updated on your progress in Ladria.”

“You checked up on me?”

“Of course I did. I’m your big brother, am I not? Was I simply supposed to abandon you?”

His insides fumed. “You
did
abandon me!” Nolan shot a disapproving glance, causing Falcon to lower his voice. “What was it that you told me that night? ‘Don’t worry. I won’t leave you alone for long.’ Except you never came back. You left me to die in the forest.”

“Did I now?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t you ever think it strange that K’ran just happened to find you? Didn’t you find it odd that he would just be roaming the woods in the middle of a thunderstorm?”

Falcon’s silence was all the answer Albert needed, and his brother pressed on. “It was I who told him where to find you. And once you went to Rohad, I kept close communication with Zoen and K’ran. That way I could make sure that you were fine. I must say, I was quite proud of how you handled the situation back at Sandoria.”

“Zoen and K’ran knew? They knew all along and didn’t tell me?” Betrayal rose in his voice.

“They didn’t inform you of my whereabouts to protect you. They knew you had bigger problems on your mind. Like controlling your powers, for one.”

That wasn’t a good enough excuse for Falcon. He had trusted both K’ran and Zoen. How could they have withheld this from him? He felt a cold, precise anger toward the man before him. He wanted to hurt him, to make him pay for everything he’d been through.

“I get that you’re angry at us, and frankly you have the right to be. In time, I’m sure you will see that we were correct to withhold this from you. It would have only caused more problems being associated with a wanted criminal. You didn’t need that.”

“Why didn’t you just take me with you?”

“And do what? Live your life running and hiding? No. I was cursed with that life, but that didn’t mean you had to be.”

“It is true, then?” asked Falcon. In his mind he replayed that morning, when the guards had told him that his brother had murdered the Ladrian council. He recalled the smell of wet dirt as the bloodied corpses were carried away. “You did kill them?”

“Yes.” He took a gulp and sighed. “I did.”

“Why?”

“I see no use in reliving a past that is long dead.”

“I do. I stayed up many nights wondering why you did it.”

Albert studied him for a long time before finally speaking. “The members of the Ladrian council were planning a revolt. They had control over a large branch of the army, but they needed a commander.”

“
You
?” asked Falcon. He finally understood why the council had asked for his brother all those night ago.

“Yes. They wanted me to lead a coup and take over the city. That was something I could never do.”

“Why kill them, though? You could have just said no.”

“If I had declined their offer, they would have simply found another commander. Once that happened Ladria would have been thrust into a civil war that would have claimed thousands of lives.” He took a long breath. “There was an unflinching desire in them to rule. I saw it in their eyes. Their souls had been corrupted by the promise of power. For them, the death of their citizens was a small price to pay. I couldn’t allow that. So I did what I had to…I eradicated the corruption at its core.”

“Except you didn’t,” countered Falcon. He told him of Councilman Nakatomi’s claim that it had been he who had caused the demise of the council.

Surprisingly, Albert took this news in stride. Did he already know?

Albert brought his hand to his chin, rubbing it for some time before speaking. “That would make sense. I had my suspicions that someone else was orchestrating the plot from the shadows but never had any strong leads as to who it could have been.”

“There is still something I still don’t understand,” said Falcon. “You took off your mask for me once, remember? You looked different than you do now.” He pointed at the space emblem. “How long have you been a space wielder?”